


A Christmas Miracle

by Titti



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-05 08:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16364552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: It's been four years since the war and Draco has been pining after Harry, knowing that he has no chance, but Christmas miracles do happen.





	A Christmas Miracle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheKnitterati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnitterati/gifts).



"You're coming on Christmas, right?"

Draco raises his head from his fifth (or is it sixth?) pint and blinks trying to make the two Harry Potters sitting in front of him stop moving. "Huh?"

"Next week, Christmas, the Burrow?" Potter says.

Maybe there is only one Potter and it's the ale making Draco see double. It's also the ale that is confusing Draco. It takes a moment to sort out what Potter is asking. Potter and Draco meet every week at the Leaky Cauldron and get rat faced, although the last part might only apply to Draco. Some weeks, Weasley and Granger join them. It was one of the conditions – the only condition to get Potter to testify on behalf of his father. There were never any conditions attached to his testimony in favour of Draco or his mother. Draco has gone along, but he'd never expected that they'd really meet every week (they have) or that they get pissed (all right, maybe that wasn't part of the condition, but the only way Draco makes it through a few hours with Potter).

Potter laughs. "You're drunk, aren't you? Next week, seven days. Instead of meeting here, we'll meet at the Burrow. Remember?"

It takes another few seconds, but Draco finally nods. "I thought you were joking," he mumbles.

"Have we ever skipped a week?" Harry asked amused.

"But it's Christmas," he says with a pout and then adds, "Still don't know how that's even possible with your job." It's the greatest mystery as far as Draco is concerned. Even in the aftermath of the war, Potter has always shown up. On occasions he's been late, sending Granger or Weasley to keep him company until he showed up, but he's always showed up. Even that day that he was late, because he'd just arrested MacNair in a violent encounter that had left another scar on Potter's forehead. "You're an idiot."

Potter has no idea what's going through Draco's head, but instead just smiles in that unnerving ways of his, like he knows that Draco doesn't really mean it. "Yes, but you're still coming to the Burrow."

Draco sighs. "Fine. Dinner at home doesn't last long anyway, with just the three of us." The past four Christmases have been a sombre affair at home. Presents in the morning, meal at noon, done by two at the latest and then they pretend that it's just another day, with no family or friends to see. "I'll be there around thirty past two, if that's agreeable."

Potter nods. "We'll just be starting dinner then. Expect it to last a _very_ long time."

"Joy!"

"To the world. The Lord has come," Potter says, chuckling at his own horrible joke. Draco drinks instead. "All right, enough of that," Potter continues. "Let me take you home before you splinch yourself trying to Apparate."

His house-elves are terribly used to this as well and don't even react at the sight of Potter walking him through the garden and into the house, up to his room, before leaving like it was the most normal thing in the world. Draco is too drunk to care for more than a few seconds and then he promptly passes out.

* * *

"You need to stop this." Narcissa stands in the middle of the room while Draco is picking out robes from his closets.

"What? Trying to look decent for Christmas?" Draco asks, but he knows what she means. He always knows what she means, because his mother is better than a seer. She knows everything, even the things you never admit to yourself.

Narcissa sighs. "Christmas is in two days and you're already planning what to wear. It's time you stop meeting Potter. It's not good for you."

Draco goes to her and hugs her tight. He loves her and loves the fact that she cares. She's also right. These weekly meetings are killing him. Alcohol is the only thing that makes them bearable. Four years of weekly meetings and Draco wants to run away every week, and yet he can't stay away from Potter. "You know I promised him," he finally says as he pulls back.

"You didn't take an oath. He never asked you to," she points out, like she's done many times before. This is hardly the first time they've had this discussion and probably won't be the last.

"I know, but I gave him my word, Mum, and he was the only one who would trust me enough back then. I can't go back on my promise." All of that is true, but they both know that it's much more than that. The cold truth is that Draco is in love with Harry Potter. He doesn't know when it happened. One day he wanted Potter gone from Hogwarts and the magical world and the next he would have done anything to ensure that Potter survived.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Draco knows that it's true, because it was during his seventh year that he realised that he didn't want Potter expelled. Or away. Certainly not dead. He wanted Potter right there, next to him, so that they could fight and argue and play Quidditch and maybe kiss. Definitely kiss. Draco wanted to do a lot of kissing, he still does, although his fantasies include a lot more than kissing nowadays. He's never told anyone any of that, but his mother guessed right after Harry escaped from their house.

"You love him," she said. Simple as that and Draco didn't correct her.

"You're drinking more and more. It's not healthy." 

Her words remind him that he's not alone. He puts a robe in front of him. "What do you think?"

"I think that you need to stay away from him. On Christmas day, and every day after that. Find an excuse why these weekly meetings need to stop and if you can't, I can. I'll speak to him. I will find a way to get you out." She's as close to begging as she'll ever get and Draco hates that.

"Mum, I know you're trying to help, but I need to see him. It'd be worse if I couldn't see him," he finally admits. "Maybe I'm just a masochist."

That gets a small chuckle from her. "We both know that's not the case. Except-."

"Except when it comes to Potter. He's the exception to everything. Six years at Hogwarts taught me that. You're still learning," Draco said, with a teasing tone. "I'll be all right, Mum. Truly."

"If you say so." She clearly isn't convinced, but at least she drops the subject and helps Draco pick the right robe, the perfect blend of elegant, classic and not in your face. If he were going anywhere but the Burrow, people would appreciate the sentiment. Neither the Weasleys nor Potter will understand, but Draco still tries to make a good impression.

* * *

"I didn't know you smoked."

Draco is hiding outside. It's cold, but England is nowhere as cold as Scotland and there's no white Christmas down here, which means he can deal with it. "Nasty habit, I know. Blaise got me hooked on them, stole them from his mother. I don't smoke a lot." But he can't drink here, so fags will have to be.

"Thank you."

Draco blows out some smoke and raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"Not raising to bait. Arthur-"

"Hates my father, me and my family in general?" Draco finishes, although it's really not a question. "Yes, I got that much."

"But otherwise it was good?" Potter asks.

Draco laughs. Only Potter could think that today was good. It was loud, cramped, with too many children (one is too many as far as Draco is concerned) and Dominique had even stained his robe with chocolate. "The food was good."

"The food is always good. The rest- I like it. It's- I never had this kind of family," Potter admits.

"Potter, no one has this kind of family. I'd be a basket case if I had to deal with so many people on a daily basis." Not that he isn't a basket case, but his problems come in the form of nightmares about the war and obsession for the man standing right in front of him.

Potter laughs. "I wouldn't want to do it every day either, but it's nice on Christmas Day." He leans his shoulder against the wall, staring at Draco. "We've stayed long enough. We can go if you want."

Draco is confused at the statement. "You _can_ stay and I can leave if you want."

"No, of course not, we spend the evenings together, remember?"

"Yes, but that's because usually we don't spend the entire afternoon together. It's almost eight and I've been here since thirty past two. I think we've hit our quota for the week." He's not sure why he's arguing. He doesn't want to go home to the manor. As much as he loves his parents, he doesn't want to sit with them, pretending not to see the concerned looks on their faces, because he's still single and doesn't have many friends. "Although I did make a promise." Apparently it's the right thing to say, because Potter grins like an idiot and Draco's heart skips a beat.

"Let me tell them we're leaving-"

"I should say goodbye." He doesn't want to, but he has manners.

The whole affair goes surprisingly quick, a sign that the Weasleys want him there as much as he wants to be there. Ten minutes later, they are at Grimmauld Place. Draco has heard of this house, but it's the first time he's been in it. His mother always talks about what a fine house it used to be. It's not now, that much is clear as Draco walks through the hallway and up the stairs.

"Potter, why aren't you fixing this house?" he blurts out.

"Been busy I guess."

"Busy? The Battle of Hogwarts was four years ago."

"Four year, seven months and twenty-three days, but who's counting?"

"Apparently you," Draco answers with a snort. "That can't be healthy."

"And refusing to speak to your friends, not having a girlfriend or a boyfriend and spending all your time with your parents is?" Potter asks in that challenging tone that makes Draco forget that he's possibly in love with the man and definitely makes him want to hex him instead.

"I have friends," Draco says.

Harry snorts. "Talking to Zabini a few times a year? Not exactly a great social life."

"I see you every week, don't I?" It's the wrong thing to say, he knows that, but he doesn't really see anyone else, and Draco refuses to let Potter win this argument. He's won everything else in their lives.

Instead of pointing out how Draco is proving his point, Potter smiles. "Yes, you do." He turns and finishes the last few steps. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Draco finds himself in a drawing room. This must have been an exquisite room at some point with the large fireplace, the ornate cabinets, and the large windows, but mostly with the tapestry of the Black family tree covering a wall. He can tell that it's a room that Potter likes, because it's also clean compared to the rest of the house. There's a Christmas tree not too far from the fireplace and decorations all over the room. Still, he can't take his eyes off of the tapestry and the intricate way that pureblood families are connected.

Potter comes to stand next to him. "The first time I saw it, I couldn't phantom how so many families had intermarried and how strongly they hated each other."

Draco takes a deep breath. "What I see is how many family lines have disappeared because of that hatred. It destroyed us all in the end."

"We're still here."

And doing miserably, Draco thinks, but instead he walks away, or tries to. "What the fuck? I can't move."

Potter looks at him with a frown and then looks up. "George." If that's supposed to be an explanation, Draco isn't impressed. "He's spelled the mistletoe to float around the house and anyone caught under it must kiss or they can't move."

That makes more sense, but Draco still isn't impressed. He doesn't want to kiss Potter. All right, that's a lie. He wants to kiss him, but not like this, not because a stupid mistletoe forces them. He wants Potter to want him. Unlikely, he thinks, before sighing. "Best get on with it, then."

The words are barely out that Potter's lips are on him. A kiss, a simple and chaste kiss would satisfy the mistletoe, and Draco expects Potter to move away, but he doesn't. Fingers brush his hair until Potter cups the back of his head and pulls him closer with a gentleness Draco didn’t think possible.

Draco is in shock. His body is telling him what's happening, but his brain isn't processing it. This can't be happening, he thinks, and he open his mouth to say so, but Potter's tongue sweeps in, and Draco decides that thinking is overrated. His fingers curl around Potter's hips and Draco pulls him close as the kiss turns into small little kisses and soft moans.

"I've wanted to do this for years." 

The admission is a whispered confession and Draco isn't sure who said it for a moment, but then looks at Potter and the confusion he feels is evident on his face. "You what?"

"Come on, Draco. You can't be this thick, can you? We've been going out every week for four years."

"Four years, three months and ten days," Draco answers.

"But who's counting?" Harry mimics with a grin.

"I never claimed to be sane." Draco is talking, because he needs time to make sense of what's happening. "You- Is this why the agreement?"

Harry shakes his head. "No. Back then, I just wanted to talk to you, make sure you were all right, and maybe form a bridge so nothing like the war happens again, but then- I like you, Draco, but I could never figure out if it was reciprocal until-." He points to the mistletoe. "You didn't push me back."

"I was in shock." It's true, although it doesn't negate what Potter is saying.

Potter blanches and pulls away. "I… I'm sorry, I thought-."

Draco feels a coldness that he hasn't felt since the Dark Lord's demise. "No- Shit, I'm sorry… I mean yes, I was in shock, but it was reciprocal. You'd better not be fucking with me, Potter."

Potter smiles again. "I definitely would like for some fucking to happen."

Draco stares for a moment and then chuckles. "Your jokes are terrible."

"But you're smiling. I like it when you smile." Potter gets close again and puts his arms around Draco’s waist. "So… can we call this officially a date? We have the fireplace, Kreacher can make us some hot cocoa, there's the mistletoe."

Draco kisses him before Potter can say more, kisses him like a starved man in front a banquet. Their bodies melt against each other, and Draco feels safe against Potter's solid chest. Potter must understand what he's not saying ( _I love you_ , _Don't ever let me go_ , _I don't know how to live without you_ ), because he's holding him tight and yet with that gentleness that might break Draco. "Does it have to happen tonight?"

Potter frowns for a moment. "The date?" Draco shakes his head. "The fucking? Of course it doesn't have to happen tonight. We have the rest of our lives."

"I don't want to wait _that_ long."

Potter laughs. "Let's start with sitting down and we can take it from there."

Draco can't find any objections, especially when he sees the thick rug in front of the fireplace. The torches in the room go dark, leaving the fireplace as their only source of light, and two cups of hot cocoa appear on the rug. It seems like Potter thought of everything.

"There is one condition," Potter says and Draco freezes for a moment. "You need to start using my name. I know you like rules, and there's a rule that says that if you stick your tongue down my throat, last names can't be used."

Draco rolls his eyes. "You're an idiot, Po- Harry." It doesn't have the same effect and it feels wrong, but then they sit down and start kissing again, and Draco forgets his objections. In facts he sighs happily.

"What is it?" Potter asks.

"This is the best Christmas present since-"

"Fifth year?" Potter ventures and Draco nods. "They'll get better."

Draco knows that it's true, because he trusts Potter, he's trusted him with his life and now with his heart. He smiles like he hasn't in ages, like the world is shining bright again, like hope has returned and then he kisses Potter again. He just got his very own Christmas miracle.


End file.
